Drew reached down to the bottom cabinet and opened it. This time, I stopped him. “Should you even be telling me any of this? Ever hear of attorney-client privilege?”
“I changed the names to protect the not-so-fucking-innocent. Believe it or not, unlike my clients’ spouses, I have some ethics.” He pointed to the cabinet. “Want to hear more? I think you’ll really like Lieutenant O’Connor’s story. It’s a real tearjerker. Wife was screwing his brother while he was off in Iraq and she—”
I cut him off again. “I get your point. But what you’re missing is that maybe these divorces wouldn’t have happened if the couples had sought counseling. You see people when they’re at their worst—people who gave up instead of fighting for their marriage.”
Drew stared at me. “You really believe all marriages can be saved?”
I thought about the question for a minute before answering. “Not all. But I think most can be saved, yes. Opening the lines of communication can fix a lot of things.”
Drew shook his head. “That’s na?ve. I also have some real estate on Park Avenue you can rent for two grand a month.”
“Screw you,” I hissed and stormed back to my office.
I kept my office door shut the rest of the afternoon. A knock that came at almost seven p.m. startled me as I worked on transcribing my chicken-scratch notes from today’s counseling sessions. I kept an e-case file for each patient.
“Come in.”
The door opened, but only slightly, just enough to fit an arm through. Which is exactly what appeared. Drew’s arm, waving something white around.
What is he waving? Are those…underwear?
I’d been carrying around a full load of angry all afternoon after our heated argument, and it was starting to weigh me down. His gesture brought some much-needed levity.
“Come in,” I said again.
He pushed the door open a few more inches. This time his head joined his white-flag-waving arm. “You’re not still pissed and planning to use your mad Krav Maga skills on me, are you?”
I laughed. “I should. You deserve a good ass-whipping. But I’ll hold back.”
Drew smiled and opened the door the rest of the way, staying in the doorway. “I guess I owe you an apology for some things I said today?”
I sat back in my chair. “You do.”
He hung his head. The action reminded me of a little boy who’d given his dog a bath—in red paint. It was cute. He was cute. But I was going to make him grovel anyway. His head was still slightly bowed as he looked up at me from beneath his dark lashes. “I’m sorry for today.”
“What exactly are you sorry for?”
He dropped his head back down. “You’re going to make this difficult, aren’t you?”
“Yep.”
“Fine. I’m sorry for calling you na?ve.”
“Anything else?”
I watched his face as the wheels spun in his head. “For listening to your conversation with your client.”
“Is that it?”
“Is there supposed to be more?” He looked a little nervous for a second.
“There’s more.”
After thirty more seconds of thought, he snapped his fingers as if he was proud of himself. “I’m sorry for looking at your ass.”
My brows drew down. “When did you look at my ass?”
He shrugged. “Every chance I get?”
I couldn’t help but laugh. “Apology accepted.”
His shoulders dropped a bit and he looked relieved. The man had a tough exterior. But sometimes the ones who’d had it rough wore the thickest armor.
“How about I buy you a burger at Joey’s for dinner to make it up to you?” He winked. “I’ll buy the biggest one they have so you can get real full and take your skirt off for me again.”
Emerie
“Can I ask you something personal?”
“No.” Drew’s response was quick.
“No?” I crinkled up my face, confused. “You know, usually when two people are sitting around talking and eating, and one of them asks the other if they can ask something personal, the other generally says yes. It’s polite.”
“I have a rule. Whenever someone asks if they can ask something, I say no.”
“Why?”
“Because if you have to ask if you can ask, it’s probably something I don’t want to answer anyway.”
“But how do you know if you don’t even hear the question?”
Drew sat back in his chair. “What’s your question, Emerie?”
“Well, now I feel like I shouldn’t ask it.”
He shrugged and finished off the last of his beer. “Okay. So don’t.”
“Did something happen to you that made you bitter about relationships?”
“Thought you didn’t feel like you should ask?”
“I changed my mind.”
“You’re kind of a pain in the ass. You know that, right?”
“And you’re kind of a bitter jerk, so I’m curious what made you that way.”
Drew tried to hide it, but I saw the corner of his lip twitch toward a smile. “I’ll tell you why I’m a bitter jerk, if you tell me why you’re a pain in the ass.”
“But I don’t think I’m a pain in the ass.”
“Maybe you should see a therapist, help you figure that shit out.”